Not Her Type
by thegirlinflat4a
Summary: The man in reception wasn't her type. And yet... Non-Canon. GSR


Author's Note: It's decidedly non-canon, but if it were, it would probably fit somewhere towards the end of season 15.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

* * *

It was no secret that Julie Finlay had a type when it came to men: the younger side of middle aged, toned, and wielding a badge. Trouble.

The man in reception was none of the above. He wasn't in _bad_ shape, but he didn't seem to hit the gym much. _Solid_ , she thought. _Well built_. His hair was definitely more salt than pepper, and the only badge he had was the LVPD Visitor's badge he was in the process of pinning to one of the lapels of his light jacket.

So no, he wasn't Finn's type. And yet…

Not wanting to draw his attention before she's composed herself, she kept her head down as she headed to the locker room. Quickly depositing her coat and bag in her locker and running her fingers through her hair a couple of times, she made to dart back to the reception desk, catch the man's name (and number), and head to the break room in time for assignments.

Her plans were effectively scuppered by the arrival of Nick and Greg into the locker room. She made to sidestep them with a breezy "evening, boys!" but Nick caught her elbow as she passed and span her back around to face them.

"Hey, Finn! Just the person!" he cried with, Finn felt, far more enthusiasm than anyone should possess pre start-of-shift coffee. "Greg and I were hoping you could give us your input on our case."

Greg nodded forcefully. Finn narrowed her eyes.

"Can it wait, like, five minutes? Because there's this guy in reception and-"

Greg cut her off with a wave of his hand. Yeah, we know. We saw and that's why you can't… The case really is quite urgent"

Shrugging their bizarre behaviour aside for a moment, Finn acquiesced. "Fine. What is it?"

The men exchanged a look. "Uh… blood spatter" blurted Nick. "From our scene."

Cocking to one hip, Finn frowned. "Aren't you two working that quadruple from Green Valley? I thought Doc said the victims were all suffocated in their sleep."

Nick and Greg exchanged another look. After a short pause, Nick opened his mouth to splutter out a clarification, but Finn shook her head. "Look, whatever the point of this is, give it up. I'll see you at assignments."

And she swept out of the room to Greg's incredulous hiss of "Blood spatter? Really?"

Rounding the corner to reception, Finn suppressed a groan. The man had gone. The receptionist had also vanished, taking with her any hope of getting at least a name for the mysterious man from her. Determined to locate and identify the man by the end of shift at the very least, Finn headed to the break room. She resolved to tell Morgan and Sara about the man. Between the three of them, they could probably have his name (and criminal history) within the next few hours.

As she approached the break room, she could make out the figure of Sara by the coffee pot. With a smile, Finn turned through the doorway.

"Sara! Hey, have you seen the…? _Oh_.

Because there, in the break room, on the couch like it was the most natural place in the world for him to be, was the man.

Sara turned around, a mug of coffee in each hand.

"Finn. Hi."

She handed one mug to the man and cradled the other protectively, staring down into its depths and assiduously avoiding the gaze of either of the others.

The man stood, and extended a hand in greeting.

"Finn. Hello. I've hear a lot about you."

"You have?" Finn beamed. Then she frowned and glanced over at Sara for any sort of explanation. "How come?"

Sara made no attempt to provide any such clarification. The man, however, was much more forthcoming. In a way.

"Oh, sorry." He said. "We haven't actually met. Gil Grissom. It's a pleasure to put a face to the name."

And suddenly, it all made sense. Nick and Greg's attempts to keep her from the break room, Sara's reluctance to acknowledge her, everything.

With an only slightly forced smile, Finn shook his hand.

"Oh. Hi. You know, I've left some case files in my locker. Russell will have my head if they're late. I've got to go get them. Good to meet you at last."

And she all but ran from the room.

"I see what you meant about her" said Grissom with a wry smile.

Sara smiled softly, put her coffee mug down and for the first time in nearly two years, met her husband's eyes.

"What are you doing here, Gil?"


End file.
